


Watermelon Purple Tuba

by sophie_448



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Total schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-07
Updated: 2010-11-07
Packaged: 2019-03-29 00:04:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13915080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophie_448/pseuds/sophie_448
Summary: An unexpected encounter at the school fair.





	Watermelon Purple Tuba

**Author's Note:**

> So I was trying to decide what to write tonight when [](https://clex-monkie89.livejournal.com/profile)[clex_monkie89](https://clex-monkie89.livejournal.com/) started giving me random words. I joked that I could take them as a prompt, and then I actually got an idea. So here it is!

“Watermelon?”

Cook turns from where he’d stopped on the sidewalk, contemplating whether his next stop at the school fair should be the bouncy house or sno cones. The shy kid who sits in the front row of his algebra class is looking at him hopefully from behind a table full of watermelon slices.

“Fruit is really good,” he continues when Cook doesn’t respond. “And it’s healthy.”

Cook laughs. “Kid, if that’s your pitch, no wonder you’re not selling more.”

“What?” the kid squawks, affronted. “It’s true, though!”

“Archuleta, right?” Cook says, dredging the name up from his repressed memories of math class.

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “And you’re David Cook.”

“Call me Cook,” he replies.

“Oh, okay, Cook. Some of my friends call me Archie. You can too. You know, if you—if you want.”

“Okay, Archie. I’m gonna give you some advice.”

“Okay?”

Archie looks skeptical, but Cook barrels on. “This is a fair. Nobody wants something that’s good for them.” He holds up a hand when Archie opens his mouth to interrupt again. “Don’t say it’s healthy, say it tastes good. Tell them they can have seed spitting contests. Make watermelon sexy.”

“I don’t think I’d be very good at that,” Archie says, looking at Cook wide-eyed.

“Sure you can!” Cook says. “Practice on me.”

“Okay,” Archie says. “Um, would you like to try some really sexy watermelon?” He’s cringing the whole time he says it.

Cook can’t help it. He cracks up. “That was awesome. Okay, yeah. I would love some sexy watermelon.” He hands Archie a dollar and takes a slice. “So how long are you stuck working the watermelon booth?”

Archie looks at his watch. “Um, another hour or so. Why?”

“I’m gonna get a sno cone. You want one?”

“I guess?”

“What flavor? Rainbow?”

Archie shakes his head. “Just purple.”

“Boring!” Cook declares.

“I like purple!”

“Fine, fine, one purple sno cone, coming up.”

Cook takes off across the parking lot, wondering why he’s suddenly chatting with the nerdy kid from his algebra class and buying him sno cones. Might have something to do with him being unintentionally hilarious. And that smile. Sparkling might be a word for it. Cook pays for the sno cones and makes his way back to the watermelon table.

“One purple sno cone,” he says, handing it over.

“Thanks,” Archie says.

Cook finds his eyes drawn to Archie’s mouth as he takes a bite of the frozen treat. His tongue darts out to catch the syrup about the drop down the side of the paper cone.

“Want some company?” he finds himself asking.

Archie’s slightly purple grin kind of takes his breath away. “Sure!”

Cook steals a folding chair from the chess club. Their booth isn’t getting much play either, shocker. He settles down next to Archie, and they fall into surprisingly easy conversation.

Archie is in the middle of a hilarious story about how Mr. Cowell, the science teacher, extra credit, and a squirrel—yeah, Cook doesn’t know either—when he spots Neal lugging his tuba down the sidewalk, muttering to himself.

“Hey, Doc!” he calls cheerfully.

“I fucking swear,” he huffs. “Next semester I’m switching to some instrument that doesn’t have its own zip code. Maybe the flute. Or the piccolo.”

“My sister plays the flute,” Archie pipes up.

“Who the fuck are you?” Neal says, seeming to notice him for the first time.

“Oh, um.” Archie blushes and looks down at the table. “David. David Archuleta?” He says it like a question.

Cook feels suddenly protective. “Shut the fuck up, Tiemann. Archie’s cool.”

Neal shrugs. “Sure, man. Whatever. Nice to meet you, Archuleta.”

“We’ve actually met?” Archie says, still sounding intimidated. “In art class last year? I really liked your drawings.”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” Neal says, suddenly a little pink himself. “Well, the band’s about to start. So, later.”

Neal wanders off, still cursing at his tuba.

“He’s really nice when you get to know him,” Cook says sheepishly.

Archie nods, looking skeptical.

Cook coughs. “So, uh, listen. I know we’ve never really talked before, but would you maybe like to get dinner sometime?”

Archie bites his lip. “You mean, like, as friends?”

He’s looking at Cook kind of hopefully, though. At least, Cook thinks that’s what it is. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head.

Archie smiles. “I would love to get dinner with you.”

Cook grins back, his cheeks straining with the effort. “Awesome.”


End file.
